


Wrath of the Dragon

by thefamegangsta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Magic-Users, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Resurrection, Ruthless!Daenerys, Targaryen Restoration, more magical elements than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefamegangsta/pseuds/thefamegangsta
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen is slain following the Battle of King's Landing by her lover, Jon Snow and is taken to an unknown location following her death. However, a chance storm leads Drogon to a new and unexplored continent that offers Daenerys a second chance at life, one that will allow her to return to the living world thanks to the magic of the people who find her body. Awoken from death, Daenerys does not forget who has wronged her and will do anything in her power to get her deserved revenge, and will bring about the resurrection of her allies along the way.  The Night King still looms, and the world must rally behind the Mother of Dragons, the true Azor Ahai, and prepare to face the personification of death himself.
Relationships: Aegon Vi Targaryen / OC, Grey Worm/Missandei, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, will add more - Relationship
Comments: 46
Kudos: 28





	Wrath of the Dragon

Drogon, screaming into the air, lifted his mother with his claws and flew into the clouds surrounding Blackwater Bay. Rage and pain filled the dragon’s heart, he fully understood the meaning of death. 

He had seen his siblings both fall before his eyes, and now his mother to the one she loved. His wings strained as he flew further, and faster than he had ever before. Something in Drogon’s head was guiding him, somewhere. The brunt of a vortex could not stop the power of the dragon, and he continued through the gale force winds and pelting rain.

The last dragon remaining in the world continued flying until his wings could no longer support his weight, and he came upon an island. The landmass was circular, with several inlets creating many small bays and rivers. 

He touched down on the shores of a forest, and wrapped himself around the body of his mother, too tired to stay awake any longer. 

The sounds of commotion awoke the dragon. He opened his eyes to see a number of figures around him, none of them wearing anything recognizable to the beast. He raised his neck and stared down the strangers, who did not back down.

“Drogon.” The man spoke. He was an elderly man, with a beard that nearly reached the floor. He wore a white robe and a white hat, both adorning a gold star upon its center. 

“You heard our call to you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” The old man said again. He began to move forward towards the dragon, while others gestured restraint, but he waved them away. “I am no threat, and I am the blood of Old Valyria. My blood is the same as his.” His ghost-white hair shifted in the morning breeze as he continued to approach the dragon.

“You know why you’re here.” The man said simply. Drogon understood. He unraveled his body, revealing the dead body of Daenerys Stormborn. 

A shock fell across the crowd, who all began murmuring. 

“The daughter of Old Valyria, the one chosen by the Fates to restore our Empire, betrayed by this world.” He approached her lifeless body and placed a hand upon her forehead.

“You have not seen your last days, Daenerys Targaryen.” He said, speaking softly. The man stood and looked to his associates. “Take her body to the sanctuary, I will meet you all there.” 

The man approached the dragon, unafraid, and placed his hand upon its snout. His eyes began to glow, reading Drogon’s soul. Tears began to fall from the man's old eyes. 

  
“My child, you have suffered so much loss, none of this was supposed to happen to you. No, you and your clutchmates were supposed to fill the skies with your screams for hundreds of years.” He continued to comfort the dragon, who was now showing what would pass for sadness in a dragon. “You will fly with them again. I will see to it.” 

\--

“Get me the Ossyrian Root.” The man commanded, striding into the sanctuary where Daenerys’ body lay upon a stone table. A young figure handed him the root of a plant that was completely pink with accents of white. “Master Grendel,” the boy began, trembling. “Do you think it’ll work? We’ve never tried it on a human.” 

Master Grendel adjusted his white robes and smiled at the boy. “Of course it will. I wouldn’t be who I am if I didn’t have faith in magic like this.” 

He continued towards the table, where three other figures in gold robes stood at attention, waiting for orders. “Master Grendel, is everything ready?” the one in the middle said. Grendel nodded. 

The figure in the middle revealed a bowl filled with a white powder which Grendel placed the root into. The four collectively placed their hands above the bowl, until it began to glow until the root and powder became one, a pink gel. 

Grendel stepped over to Daenerys’ body, which had been completely stripped. The stab wound now gaping without the murder weapon. He took a handful of the gel and placed it into the wound, completely filling it. Then, he took the remaining handful and placed it carefully onto her eyes, covering them in the substance. 

The four figures surrounded the Queen and faced their palms to her, and began chanting, “ _ Māzigon naejot ābrar”,  _ or “Return to life” in High Valyrian. Their palms began to glow, and the gel slowly began to disappear, healing the wound it had been placed in. On her eyes, they began to glow, until it subsided, and it finally disappeared.

Seconds passed, and Daenerys took a breath, then another. Her eyes shot open and she sat up, panting heavily. 

She looked at her hands, then gripped her chest, where the blade had ended her reign as the Breaker of Chains. “Wh..” the words couldn’t come out at first. “Where am I? Who are you?” She boomed, with a flame in her eyes, forcing the three golden robes to step back.

Grendel stepped forward and offered his hand. “Daenērys, iksi raqirossa. Emā daorun naejot zūgagon”, calming her. Dany looked shocked, but the sound of High Valyrian tempered her nerves as she grabbed the hand of Grendel. 

“You were not fated to die the way you did, Mother of Dragons. Someone,  _ something _ interfered and meddled with the fabric of time.” Grendel explained. Daenerys, still in shock, shook her head. 

She gave him a puzzled look, still not able to speak. 

“The destruction of that wretched city was sung by the Fates who control the strings of time, you were simply acting as you should.” He gave her a reassuring look. “In the days of Old Valyria, the Lords and the Emperors themselves consulted and trusted the songs of the Fates, granting them knowledge that would lead them to the greatest empire the world has ever known.” Grendel paused. “There was one time that the noble houses of Valyria did not trust the Fates, and it led to the Doom. Only a handful of houses escaped, yours and mine being two.”

Daenerys was sent aback, her ability to speak slowly coming back to her. “Then, why? Why me, of anyone, after what I have done?” This made Grendel chuckle.

“It’s simple. Did you think that the Long Night was over? Only Azor Ahai can kill the Great Other, and she stands before me now.”

-

Daenerys had been offered a home in the strange land the locals called Ellium, although it was only one section of a great continent completely unknown to Westerosi, or even Essosi scholars. There, she regained her bearings and for the first time in her life, rested. She allowed Drogon to hunt freely, and told him only to avoid Westeros completely.

She enjoyed the serenity of this land, as different as it may be. Magic was practiced freely and openly, and was much more refined than it was in Essos. Users were able to conjure weapons from magic and even create attacks with varying levels of shapes, colors, and strength. 

Her speech was slowly returning to her over time, as the resurrection spell was still rough. Still, she found herself on the same shore Drogon landed on and watched the waves hit while nibbling at a bowl of porridge. 

Dany’s thoughts raced. _Missandei. Rhaegal. Viserion._ _Jorah. Qhono._

She had lost so much, yet somehow felt they still remained with her. The sounds of birds in the distance and the rustling leaves left her at peace, the wind dancing in between her silver locks. She closed her eyes, imagining the house with the big red door until...

Her peace came to an end when she was approached by one of the young mages. She was slightly younger than Daenerys, but her eyes spoke of a longer life. “Grendel sent me to find you.” She said, her intricately braided black hair swaying in the wind. 

“Thank you, Aliya, what is it that he wished to speak with me about? And why didn’t he come to me himself?” Dany said, skeptical. 

Aliya, the young mage, gave her a pained look. “He has...a proposition, and considering the friendship that we have built over your time here, he thought it was best that I give it to you.”

Daenerys nodded, and clenched her jaw. It was true, she had been on Ellium for several months now and Aliya had become her closest confidant. 

“You are familiar with the ritual that brought you back to life, yes?” Aliya said, wringing her hands, knowing how tough the next question will be. 

Daenerys nodded again.

“Humans are not the only creatures that the ritual can bring back to life. In fact, you were the  _ first _ human we ever brought back. It is only ever used on magical creatures.” As Aliya spoke, Daenerys began to pick up on what the mage was suggesting.

“Daenerys...Grendel wants to resurrect your two fallen children, not only to aid you in your fight against the Great Other, but as an act of goodwill.. And…” Aliya bit her lip. “He wants nothing more than to see the destruction of those that would harm a Daughter of Valyria, especially the Crows in Westeros.” 

Daenerys was at a loss for words. Her hands began to shake. 

She had never been given proper time to grieve the loss of her children, yet, here she was being given the chance to get them back. Her jaw began to move, but no words came out. 

“You’re allowed to decline…he just thou--” Aliya’s words were halted by Daenerys’ hand.

“I accept.” A tear went running down her face. Throughout the conversation, Daenerys had thought about her opportunities for revenge, and how poetic it would be to have her three children destroy the very agents that led to her downfall.

Aliya’s face brightened, the pristine Valyrian features on her face mirroring Daenerys’ own. She clasped Dany’s hand. “There is just one thing, before we start.” 

The Queen cocked her head, curious, when Aliya brought her face close to Daenerys, and locked eyes with her. Aliya’s eyes began to glow, and the sensation transferred over to Dany, whose eyes began to glow a deep purple as well. Once the light subsided, Daenerys blinked.

“Wh...what was that?” Dany said, looking at her hands and arms, looking for scars. 

Aliya smiled. “I unlocked the magic within you. As Valyrians, we have it all within us, and it takes a realized mage to unlock your latent abilities.” She gestured to Daenerys. “Although, being the Unburnt, you have already exhibited some of your abilities.”

The mage stood, offering her hand to Daenerys. “Come. We have much to talk about, and we must begin your training.” At this, Dany grabbed her hand and helped herself up. She could feel the power buzzing beneath her skin, and clenched her fist. Memories raged in her head of the faces of the Northerners who treated her and her people as foreign enemies, even after they were saved by Daenerys' forces. The last image she sees in her head is that of Sansa Stark, and her smug facial expression, one that convinced those close to her to end Dany's life.

_ They will soon learn the wrath of the dragons. _

Once they reached Ellium proper, the bustling city was alive with activity. Merchants yelled and traded, and guards patrolled the streets. They finally reached the enclave of Grendel, an enormous building with several towers signifying the power within the building. Inside, Grendel was speaking with a man who was dressed in plate armor, his helmet removed.

They both turned to see Daenerys. The unfamiliar knight looked at Dany with a curious expression. He was tall, with olive skin and green eyes. Curly brown hair sat softly on his head and reached his ears. He smiled.

"Ah, Daenerys! You've come just in time." Grendel spoke, and grinned. "I'd like you to meet someone that we've been expecting back for a while now." 

He gestured towards the knight.

"Daenerys, meet Aegon Targaryen."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is one that I've envisioned for a while now, and am so excited to put it up! It is one that is not going to be grounded in realism, and will have many magical elements that are not currently present in ASOIAF canon. I hope you enjoy the creative liberties I am taking with this story. Until next time ~


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